The Result of a Nord in Middle Earth
by Midnight Starshine
Summary: Seda is the Dragonborn, and she is dead set on killing every dragon from Tamriel to Sovrngarde, and everywhere in between. And luckily for Middle Earth, they fall somewhere in between.


"I am needed elsewhere," I informed them, all gathered around me and wondering about the chance that they may need me in the future. The Greybeards weren't happy, in fact, they were convinced that dragons are skulking around, waiting for my departure to come out from hiding. I had told them that it was impossible, I had hunted and killed every last dragon -including Alduin, the world eater. I had no doubt when I woke up this morning that I would need to fight them on this, as I had to every time I mentioned the _feeling._

One morning I had woken to the burning need to find an Elder Scroll, and so I found one. It was not an easy task, by any means. I had to travel through the northern half of Tamriel, dredging up the slightest of clues to help me in my search. My authority as dragonborn didn't stretch much farther than the borders of Skyrim, and Nords were about the only folk to give heed to my title. When I did finally find the Elder Scroll, I had to pry it from the dead hands of a Khajiit trader.

Once I had brought it back to High Hrothgar -with every intention of using it that night- the Greybeards stopped me, demanding to be told my intentions. I do not dislike the Greybeards, but I do believe that they are meddlesome old men with nothing better to do than make my life tedious and boring. And the life of the Dragonborn is not supposed to be tedious or boring.

"I have had enough of these pointless discussions, I am leaving," I stomped my foot down, daring them to break their silence and defy me. At their lack of a response I spun on my heel, shouldered my bag, and entered the courtyard.

"I am called Seda," I proclaimed to the dwemer around me. I held my head high and my shoulders back, daring them to laugh in my face. In this land much is different, here I am smaller than the average man, the species are different, and no one knows of the Voice. In fact, I am much, much smaller than the old wizard who brought me here, I am slightly smaller than the dwemer around me, and barely taller than the large-footed folk. "I am here to kill your dragons."

Someone laughed. I glared at the crowd around me and felt my hand twitch for my bow. "Sorry lass," a large dwemer growled out, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You think you can kill a dragon?"

I mirrored his position. "I have done so before, and I daresay I have more knowledge about dragons than you," I sneered. Gandalf, the odd wizard, placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Now, now, Miss Seda is a better warrior than she appears! I would suggest you all give her a chance."

I raised my chin and smirked, enjoying the annoyed looks that crossed over the dwemer's face. "Yes, please give me a chance." It sounded pleasant enough, for Gandalf's sake, but the smirk said the rest for the dwemer. I removed my cloak and tossed it to Bilbo, keeping my weapons on my person. The various knives strapped to my legs glinted dangerously and the glass bow on my back reflected the low light. The warpaint over my eyes made them look bright blue and I rubbed a finger over it, checking that it stayed. The finger I pulled back was dark brown, as it should be, and I grinned.

"Miss?" a tentative voice asked, catching my attention.

I turned a glare on them, softening it slightly when I saw the small owner of the home. "Yes?"

"Would you like to wash up, there is mud around your eyes."

I laughed, "Oh little Bilbo, that is no mud!" I slapped him on the shoulder as I laughed, knocking him forward slightly. "That is warpaint!"

"W-Warpaint?" he asked, "Why would you need that?"

I smiled, "To intimidate the enemy, though I suspect it is more of a tradition now, rather than a battle tactic." I paused, "I supposed I could use a damp rag, if you wouldn't mind."

He nodded with an awkward smile and scurried off. I watched him scuttle away and smiled at the memory it brought forth. There were not many in Skyrim that matched this one's skittish and polite mannerisms. As a Nord, even a female one, I was well used to being mocked for lack of backbone. It did not matter if I most certainly did have one, as a child you would grow to be tough or you would not grow at all. Though, there was one whom shared his odd nature.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the slight sound of footsteps.

At Bilbo's return I ran the rag over my exposed skin, cleaning my arms and the top of my chest. My face came last, and the rag was filthy by then. I did not need a mirror to tell me that I had done no more than smudge the dirt around, but I felt better, and so I left it.

Finding myself alone in the hallway, I finally had a chance to take in my surroundings. The ceilings was high -in comparison to my new height- and every archway and window was rounded and curved to represent the tunnel-like quality of living underground. The hole was full of warm browns and greens, lovely natural colors that represented the simple, earthen quality of these Shirefolk. In my short travel here, the wizard had told me stories of this land; of the Dwemer and their mountain, or the armies of men, even the elves and their longevity. Yet the Shirefolk are my favorite thus far, homey and kind -though a bit nosey and suspicious- they represent a calm reprise from all the fighting and death I have seen.

I grasped the amulet of Talos around my neck, holding it within the palm of my hand and feeling the strangely warm metal beneath my fingertips. I lifted the worn leather strap from around my neck and held it between my hands, clasping it tightly. I wound the leather cord around my wrist, knowing that if I lost it, there would be none to replace it. My eyes fluttered closed as I concentrated on Him. "Talos guide me on my venture, I know not if you or any of the divines can hear me in this strange land, but I lay my worries and doubts with you. I fear that Sovergaurd does not await me, should I die here, I fear I will find nothing," I muttered quietly under my breath. "Talos-" I froze, hearing something shift behind me. I spun quickly, pulling free a knife and holding it at the ready.

One of the Dwemer stood behind me, one of the younger ones. He look as a startled as a milk drinker stealing from the Jorrvaskr, the thought brought a small, amused smile to my lips. "What is it you want?" I demanded, knowing intimidation was the only way to be left in peace.

He grinned at me, "I was curious about your bow."

"What of it," I growled, laying a possessive hand on glass was smooth and cool to my touch, vastly different from the amulet dangling from my wrist.

"Archers are unusual among Dwarves," he started, taking a step closer. "And I have never seen one made like that."

I smirked and pulled it free, putting away the knife and relaxing. "I am not surprised, glass weapons are rare, even among my kind." I gently fingered the contours of it, the decorative gold accents. "Dwemer usually prefer their own metal, anyway. While I enjoy Dwemer metal and it's protection, it is much too bulky for my preferences."

He seemed confused, "What is a Dwemer?"

"You," I said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and to me, it was.

"No," he started slowly, "I am a dwarf, aren't you?"

I scoffed, "Dwemer _are _dwarves. Extremely rare, in my home." I paused, remembering that these people don't know anything of my home. "I am a Nord."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and you are here to see my bow, not learn of my origins." He looked surprised at my deflection. "This bow was crafted in the city of Riften, forged in the hottest coals in Skyrim. It was a gift." I handed it to him, not exactly wishing to, but extending my trust as a sign of well-wishes. "If you break it," I warned. "I'll break you."

He nodded seriously and held the bow with reverence, staring at it as if it is the most magnificent thing he has seen. "If it is so fragile, why do you use it?'

I laughed, "It is not fragile in the right hands. It is extremely powerful, and I have brought my favorite glass arrows to go with it." I pulled one out of the small, hidden quiver behind me, displaying it for him to see. I noticed a few of the other Dwemer watching from afar, but ignored them. "The glass shatters within the enemy and causes triple the damage of a regular arrow." I grinned at the evil genius of it, twirling it in my hand. The amulet swung on its cord, bringing it to my attention. I place the arrow back in it's quiver and unwound the leather strap from my wrist, lifting it to replace it around my neck.

"What's that," a voice to my left asked.

I glanced at the curious Dwemer, his blonde locks starkly contrasting the dark ones his kin. "An amulet," I answered tersely, not yet wanting to share my God.

"What does it do?" he pressed, the braids along his mouth swinging as he spoke.

"It listens to my prayers," I replied tersely, clutching the amulet in my hands. "If the divines favor me, then it brings good fortune."

"Do they?" the blonde asked.

"Do they what?"

"Favor you, that is."

I lifted my chin and stared at him distrustfully. "I have done my duty by the Divines, and though I have dabbled with the Daedra, I have done their will to the best of my ability," I angrily answered him. Questioning my allegiance to the Divines was not what he had asked, but I could not help but defend myself and my actions. I snatched the bow from the other young Dwemer, ignoring his sound of protest, and stalked into the dining hall. I muttered a quick, "Wuld Nah Kest." And in nary a second, I was stopped before an empty seat and relaxed into it. The hanging light above me swung back and forth and a few of the smaller items I had passed crashed to the floor, but the look on the Dwemer's face was well worth it.

I looked to my left and saw the Dwemer with the odd hat staring at me, open mouthed. I grinned slightly, my eyes twinkling with mirth. "What was tha'?" he asked quietly, dumbfoundead.

"My own form of magic," I told him. I rolled my shoulders as I leant back in my chair, pulling out a dagger and lazily spinning it in my hands.


End file.
